


Sulk

by ThetaSigma



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 04:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12740703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetaSigma/pseuds/ThetaSigma
Summary: Sherlock's in a sulk for days now. John's a bit miffed -- his planned proposal was supposed to take place at dinner, except, well, Sherlock was busy sulking.





	Sulk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tobeconspicuous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobeconspicuous/gifts).



> Tobeconspicuous needed schmoop. I believe this qualifies.

It was honestly shaping up to be a _hell_ of a day. Sherlock had been in a strop for going on three days now, and if John had to put up with a fourth, boyfriend or not, he was going to murder Sherlock. And he would likely get away with it, given that the person he was killing was the only one who could reliably solve the crime.

Should anyone _else_ solve the crime, he was _pretty_ sure he’d be let off with temporary insanity. Sherlock was _impossible_ to live with.

“Shove over,” John ordered. “I’m sick of trying to read the paper at the kitchen table.”

Sherlock didn’t even grumble. Nor did he move.

“Sherlock Holmes, I swear to God, I will dump you on the floor,” John threatened.

Sherlock waved an elegant hand at John’s chair. It was the most movement John had seen from Sherlock in 27 hours.

“ _No_ , Sherlock, we have a _sofa_ , I am reading my paper _on the fucking sofa_ ,” John said. “Budge up.”

Sherlock refused to move. John sighed and put the paper down on the coffee table, rearranged Sherlock to his liking (on Sherlock’s back, instead of curled on his side), and picked Sherlock’s head up. He sat down on the space freed and let Sherlock’s head drop into his lap, stroking Sherlock’s hair absentmindedly. “Feel good?”

“Mmph.”

“Feel like telling me what this mood is about, love?”

_“Mmph.”_

“Suit yourself.”

John was _frustrated_ by it. They had had dinner plans two days ago – dinner plans John had had to cancel because Sherlock had refused to talk, let alone move. Dinner during which John had planned to _propose_ , goddammit, and now he had to wait for his surly, prickly, utterly loveable boyfriend to be done sulking before he could ask him to marry him.

John read in peace for forty, maybe fifty minutes, tugging gently on Sherlock’s curls, before Sherlock spoke up. “Sorry about dinner.”

John bent forward to drop a kiss on Sherlock’s nose. “I’ll live.”

“I’m sorry about…” He flapped his hand. “This.”

“What’s going on?”

Sherlock let out a huff of air. “Me, I guess. I keep wondering when you’ll come to your senses and leave.” He gave John a weak smile. 

“Oh, love,” John said. “I had hoped to do this during that dinner, but…”

Sherlock pushed himself upright. “Do what? John?”

John pulled him close, a hand on the back of his neck. “William Sherlock Scott Holmes, you make me happy like _no one else_. I love you more than I thought anyone could love anyone, you are my world, my sun, my universe. It would be the greatest honor I could imagine to call you my husband.” His hand fumbled blindly in his pocket, searching for the box he still had in there.

Sherlock blinked at him, overcome. The silence stretched on between them, taut, but John by now was more than familiar with Sherlock’s response to emotional declarations and waited.

“ _John_ ,” Sherlock breathed. He crushed their lips together in a fierce kiss. John finally found the box and tugged it out of his pocket, then held on for dear life.

“I take it that’s a yes?” John asked, breathless.

“ _Obviously_ ,” Sherlock snarked.

“I don’t _have_ to give you this, you tit,” John laughed, moving to kiss him again. Sherlock pulled away, noticing the box for the first time.

“How did I miss this?” he wondered. 

“You were sulking. For days. Over me _leaving_ ,” John said pointedly.

“I empower you now to use drastic methods to stop me next time,” Sherlock promised. “Kiss me again.”

“You don’t ever have to ask, love.”


End file.
